


Merry and Bright

by queenofthenile91



Series: Gilt and Green: The Adventures of Loki and Sigyn [3]
Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 08:33:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17097362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofthenile91/pseuds/queenofthenile91
Summary: Yule has never been Loki's favorite holiday. Luckily, Sigyn knows just how to keep her husband out of trouble.Set before Gilt and Green.





	Merry and Bright

  
  


Asgard awoke to swirling snows and icy streets in celebration of the Allfather’s Name Day and the great day of Yuletide. The traditional wreaths of holly and pine were hung around the palace and the city of Valhall, red ribbons and silver bells setting of the foresty greens. Children across Asgard woke up bright and early to prepare treats for the Allfather and his faithful steed in exchange for the gifts they would bestow before returning to their own families to exchange meager gifts. While there wasn’t such a thing as poverty or homelessness on Asgard, there were classes of those who lived with means just enough to be adequately comfortable and those who had an excess of wealth. Poverty was a hallmark of a lesser realm, and the Allfather couldn’t have that in Asgard - even if he could afford to give away toys and games to children each year. 

 

It was this annual display of the Allfather’s alleged benevolence that had his younger son in a fit of disgust. The Allfather was twice as rich as anyone in the Nine Realms, and yet always enacted this yearly ritual of giving as if it canceled out his iron grip on the various planets and peoples he had subjugated. Certainly, the Allfather had forced all of the Nine to bow before him, but any past oppression and show of force could be forgiven if he handed out a few dolls and stick horses once a year. It wasn’t as if the man actually made the toys himself, purchasing them for cheap from some elvish noble he had probably made crooked deal with a few millenia back. Yet, here again, all of Asgard was out in force and jubilation to see the Allfather off on his yearly hypocritical sleigh ride.

 

Loki watched furtively from his personal balcony as the scene unfolded below. Odin, dressed in the traditional ridiculous red riding outfit trimmed in white fur, made a great deal of waving to the assembled members of the court before he yanked on the reigns, letting out a mighty “YAAA” as Sleipnir began to walk forward, pulling with him the massive golden sleigh filled with the Allfather and one of his seemingly bottomless bags of Christmas treats for all the boys and girls of Asgard. Surrounding the king was a special contingent of einherjar whose sole purpose was to make sure that the unwashed masses didn’t get too close to the Allfather as he showed his royal benevolence by bestowing them with cheap trinkets and goods. 

 

As the Allfather pulled away from the palace courtyard and toward his annual goodwill mission, he was wished luck by the cheering crowds of courtiers who wanted to show their loyalty. Thor and the Idiots Three were there as well, cheering the loudest. They were all already half drunk on mulled wines and ciders, the traditional drink used to toast and celebrate the Allfather’s return. After all, what was the point of doing a good deed if one didn’t have an entire fawning court to congratulate and celebrate said good deed afterwards. The one thing about it Loki could marvel at was how the entire spectacle seemed to get even more farcical with each passing year. As the Allfather disappeared on the other side of Valhall’s large, golden walls, Loki let out a harrumph and slipped back into the comfort of his rooms. 

 

Sometimes, Loki couldn’t help but wonder how he had ever managed to look up to his father as a boy. When he was younger, he honestly felt his father could do no wrong, that the Allfather’s way was always right and merciful, and that to be in the Allfather’s favor was to be forever blessed. He still wasn’t exactly sure when he had stopped his hero worship of his father. Perhaps it was a seed planted whenever Thor was praised for something but Loki’s own skills were overlooked. It may have been the first time Loki heard Odin mutter about why he couldn’t be more like his brother. It could have been the first time he morphed into his female self and found himself locked away for “his own protection.” Maybe it came the first time he was punished for something Thor had been rewarded for. Whenever it had come, it was firmly entrenched now that his father was far from a perfect king or perfect man. 

 

Thor, of course, hadn’t caught on yet. He still baffled at why Loki’s hero worship of their father had gone away when his own had remained so firm. If Thor had ever questioned anything about their father, he had kept it a deep secret. It did little to encourage Loki that he saw the same characteristics that he despised in his father developing in his older brother. Loki had once worshiped Thor as a hero as well, but it seemed like every time Thor grew a little bit more like their father the kinship between the brothers disappeared a little bit. Inch by inch, they had been growing apart since they were children. Every time a new argument occurred between them, Loki wondered if this would be the tug that would make the rope snap.

 

Loki’s morose chain of thought was broken by the sound of his wife entering their chambers. Technically, they were both supposed to have been present for the Allfather’s great send-off and their appearance would likely be required upon his return as part of their royal duty. Loki had hoped he could skip out on the send off and be present for at least some of the return feast so as to trick everyone into believing he could have been there all along. Sigyn was pink cheeked from the cold and exhilarated from the general mood of the crowd. The wide grin on her face when she entered the room turned into a knowing smirk when her husband slunk into the room.

 

“I see you’ve been wishing the Allfather well on his most arduous journey to bring poorly made toys to what he on any other day would call Asgard’s less-hard working populace?” Loki snorted.

 

“I see you’ve been brooding,” Sigyn snorted. 

 

“Well, I thought it would best to remain behind so no one saw my inability to rouse any sense of festive cheer,” Loki harrumphed.

 

“Your mother noticed you weren’t there,” Sigyn mentioned as her husband came around to embrace her. 

 

“Was she terribly upset?” Loki said, trying not to betray his actual concern.

 

“No, but she told me to remind you that you have to at least make enough of an appearance at the return feast that Odin notices you were present,” Sigyn said. “And then she said to remind you that making your presence known doesn’t need to involve any nefariousness.”

 

“Nefarious? Me?” Loki teased. 

 

“You, my love, are the very picture of nefariousness,” Sigyn teased back. “Though, I should warn you, your mother has already threatened to return Thor’s Yule gifts for his behavior, so I wouldn’t expect her to do anything less if you cross her today.”

 

“What has Thor done now?” Loki snorted. “Thrown up on someone’s shoes? Proposed an indecency with someone’s daughter or fiancee?”

 

“He asked one of the courtiers who came in for the holiday where his hair had disappeared off to,” Sigyn said. “The man had apparently been avoiding court since he had started to go bald, and this was not the welcome he had anticipated.”

 

“I’m not sure if Thor said that because he was drunk or because he thought it was legitimately humourous,” Loki laughed. “One of these days, Thor might even equate the amount of alcohol he has consumed with his propensity to say inappropriate things.”

 

“That will be a very sad day for you in deed, husband,” Sigyn smirked. “How will you ever be able to tease him if he never says anything inappropriate?”

 

“I am sure I can endure,” Loki shrugged. “So, how long until we need to put in an appearance at this latest celebration of the Allfather’s ego?”

 

“Why do you ask?” Sigyn said.

 

“Because,” Loki grinned lasciviously, “I need to know how long I have to completely ravish you.”

 

* * *

 

  
  


Loki and Sigyn made their way down to the Great Hall for the Allfather’s return and subsequent reception feast a bit later than was probably fashionable but before the Allfather’s return so as not to draw his ire. Almost immediately upon entering the room they were headed off by a gaggle of Sigyn’s sisters who swooped her up and over to a corner of the room to chat, nearly before Loki could give her a peck on the lips to say he would see her later. His wife having been carted off by her family, Loki then headed over to where his mother was being surrounded by various courtiers who always wanted her ear or her husband’s. Her son’s presence gave the Allmother an excuse to remove herself from the sycophants. She took Loki’s arm and gave him a thankful smile for rescuing her from the crowd.

 

“I am glad to see you finally made it to the festivities,” Frigga smirked at her son.

 

“Who's to say I wasn’t present at the departure?” Loki replied.

 

“Hiding behind the curtains on your balcony does not constitute being present at the departure,” Frigga pointed out.

 

“I wasn’t hiding, and I definitely wasn’t behind any curtains,” Loki snorted.

 

“Well, you are fortunate,” Frigga said. “I don’t think your father noticed.”

 

“I hardly expect to be the sole focus of his attentions,” Loki scoffed. 

 

Frigga looked at her son knowingly. She knew her son would have prefered more attention from his father. From Loki’s perspective, at least, it seemed that the Allfather only had time for his younger son when said son was in trouble. Of course, Frigga knew that Loki wasn’t the sole receiver of her husband’s disappointment. Thor was more often in the throne room for his misdeeds than for praise as well. She didn’t want to fault Odin for it. She knew where he came from. Bor was the type of man who believed that the only time a man should speak to his children before they came of age was to chastise or lecture them on their behavior. The late Allmother Bestla had recalled how her husband had been too busy to even hold their sons after their births and might not have held them as children at all had their naming ceremonies not mandated it. 

 

“If you’re concerned, you aren’t the subject of his ire today,” Frigga mentioned. “Thor and some of his friends broke into the supply of mulled cider early this morning and have been sampling it rather liberally ever since.” 

 

“It is one of Thor’s yuletide traditions,” Loki said.

 

“Your father said he wished Thor had your sense of comportment,” Frigga mentioned. 

 

“And none of my other qualities,” Loki snorted.

 

“You say your father never finds favor in you, yet when he does you dismiss it so easily out of hand,” Frigga said. 

 

“When someone seems to so easily find fault with you, it’s natural to question their praise,” Loki shrugged. 

 

“Your father never means to come off as critical as he does when he talks to you. Or Thor,” Frigga sighed. “He just fears that both of you will not realize your full potential. He knows you are both capable of great things and doesn’t want to see anything you’ve done in your youth stand in the way of that.”

 

“Like all his youthful mistakes he always alludes to but never actually describes to us?” Loki rolled his eyes. “And what exactly does he think I have the great potential to do other than stand in Thor’s shadow for the rest of my life?”

 

“No one wants you to stand in Thor’s shadow,” Frigga said. “Your father least of all.”

 

“Then what does he have in mind?” Loki snorted.

 

“If you must know,” Frigga said with an eager twinkling in her eyes, “the envoy to Calenduin in Alfheim’s Vale lands is taking a short sabbatical for his health, and your name has been tossed out as a possible candidate to fill in during that time.”

 

“By whom, exactly?” Loki asked curiously.

 

“Well, your Uncle Ve has always been desirous that you should join him in politics, and Eldred’s people are from the general area,” Frigga pointed out. “Alfsael Erintine is the prince of the city, and I recall the two of you get along well.”

 

“Yes, though the same can’t be said of Sigyn and his chief mistress,” Loki reminded his mother. “Freyja did break up Alftrudis’ parents’ marriage after all. And of course, it doesn’t help that Alftrudis and her whole family have such a low opinion of dwarves…”

 

“I am sure our darling Sigyn would find a way to cope with that woman if necessary,” Frigga assured her son. “And even put her in her place if need be.”

 

“I shall think about it,” Loki admitted, “but you know what will happen. Father will say that he has need of me here and then never have anything for me to do. It’s almost as if he fears me going off on my own. Or perhaps just that if I’m allowed out from underneath Thor’s shadow everyone might realize I’m actually good at something.”

 

“You are wonderful at many things, my dear boy,” Frigga snorted. “And you know that you are. Perhaps it’s your high level of self-confidence that prevents others from giving you praise when you’re fishing for compliments.” Loki looked around and pinpointed three distinct gaggles of women waiting and watching for when he and his mother would be done chatting so they could pounce on the Allmother with their concerns.

 

“As lovely as our chats always are, Mother,” Loki said, “members of your adoring public seem to be chomping at the bit to get a moment with you. I would hate to keep them from you. They might become rabid.” Frigga sighed.

 

“It seems my work is never done,” Frigga sighed. “Do me a favor my dear?”

 

“Yes, Mother?” Loki asked.

 

“Find some way to make your brother at least  _ appear _ less drunk by the time your father gets back?” Frigga said. 

 

“We both know I’m not a miracle worker,” Loki pointed out. 

 

“Well, you’re the closest thing we’ve got,” Frigga sighed before stepping up to give her son a kiss on his forehead and then heading off to one of the groups waiting for her. 

 

Loki sighed, looked around the room, and found where Thor and his friends had corralled themselves into a corner. Just has he spied his brother, he managed to catch Thor’s eye. Thor said something to his friends and then began making his way toward his younger brother, a stein of something in his hands. Deducing it wouldn’t be good for a drunk Thor to be toward the center of the room, Loki strode forward himself, hoping to head Thor off and shuffle him into an area of the room where any drunken antics would cause the least amount of damage possible. 

 

“Well met, brother,” Thor grinned, “and merry yule.”

 

“I hope that isn’t ale or cider or wine in your cup,” Loki said to Thor. 

 

“It’s Volstagg’s mother’s patented sober-up recipe,” Thor confessed.

 

“You must be desperate,” Loki snorted. “Is this like her patented recipe to reduce muscle pain that made your arm go numb for three days straight or her patented boil cure that made you break out in pustules instead?”

 

“To be fair, I think that was less her recipe and more in Volstagg’s making of it,” Thor admitted. “So, we had the kitchen staff whip something up.”

 

“Hopefully Volstagg gave them the recipe correctly,” Loki pointed out, “otherwise you won’t be able to get drunk for a full moon cycle.”

 

“Don’t even voice such a thing aloud!” Thor said, annoyed.

 

“At least Mother would be pleased,” Loki shrugged.

 

“She was looking for you earlier,” Thor said. “Which reminds me...Where did you and Sigyn get off too after the departure?” 

 

“We thought we’d get a bit of respite from you blowhards in our chambers,” Loki replied. 

 

“Ha! That is the brother I know!” Thor cheered, slapping Loki on the back a bit harder than necessary. “Truly, every man would marry if they could ensure a marriage as merry as yours!”

 

“Has the Allfather thrown another candidate your way?” Loki asked curiously. Thor was usually rather easy to get information out of, but liquor made his lips even looser than normal.

 

“Well, you know he’s always on about Sif,” Thor rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion. “I’m not quite sure why.”

 

“Because she’s the only woman you spend time with who isn’t related to you?” Loki pointed out.

 

“Sif’s… one of the guys,” Thor shrugged. “It would make more sense for me to wed Fandral than her. And she’d be the first to agree with that.”

 

“Somehow, I don’t think Father will find Fandral a suitable replacement for Lady Sif,” Loki snorted, imaging all of the shades of red and purple his father might turn if such a thing was even suggested in his presence.

 

“There are also a few ladies here Father wants me to pay particular attention to,” Thor admitted gruffly. “Two from Asgard who rarely leave their parents’ country estates and then one of those hereditary princesses from Alfheim who has a puffed up attitude, a few good trade connections, and not much else.”

 

“So she’s ruled out,” Loki surmised. “What about the country girls?”

 

“One has already informed me she is in love with a stable hand her parents refuse to let her marry,” Thor said, “and I have a distinct feeling that the other is more keen on Sif than she is me.”

 

“Funny,” Loki observed, “you’re supposed to be the Crown Prince of Asgard, the future Allfather, and yet any woman you might even slightly consider as marriage material seems to run from you like you had the maggot vomiting plague and were on fire.”

 

“Not all of us can be as fortunate to find someone like Sigyn,” Thor pointed out.

 

“She has eight unmarried sisters,” Loki pointed out. 

 

“I’m not sure I could ever love anyone enough to put up with a mother-in-law like Freyja,” Thor replied. “I barely understand how you do it.”

 

“Simple,” Loki shrugged. “I avoid her, and she avoids me. The fact she doesn’t like coming to Asgard because she has to bow before Mother helps.”

 

“And I suppose the fact that you wanted to marry Sigyn didn’t hurt,” Thor said. Loki sighed, hoping this wasn’t the part where his brother’s drinking made Thor turn into a morose pile of suppressed emotions. “I don’t want to marry anyone I don’t love. And I hardly see how arranged marriages can promote love.”

 

“Father and Mother were practically arranged to marry,” Loki said. 

 

“But not officially,” Thor said. “I just want what they have, what you and Sigyn have…”

 

“Someone to enable your bad behavior?” Loki teased.

 

“I would characterize Sigyn more as your partner in crime,” Thor replied as the gaze of both brothers found where Sigyn and her sisters were chatting. “And some day I hope to find you both a sister that you will get along with as well as Sigyn and I do.”

 

“I look forward to it,” Loki nodded. The horns blasted, rattling the rafters of the hall and announcing the return of the Allfather. “Is it just me, or was this year’s trip shorter than usual?”

 

“I’ve been drinking since breakfast,” Thor admitted, “so I may not be the best judge of that.” The crowd began pushing forward toward the entrance of the hall to great the Allfather and Sigyn made her way, joining her husband and his brother.

 

“Duty calls?” Sigyn smiled at the two men.

 

“Duty calls,” they both agreed. 

 

* * *

 

 

By the time the royal family were ensconced in their dais table in the Great Hall, Loki’s patience with the court was growing thin. While he enjoyed schmoozing and politicking with the best of them, it was easy for Loki to get annoyed with courtiers once they became drunk and messy, something that always seemed to happen faster than normal on grand feast days like Yule. The fact that there were numerous presentations of gifts made not officially to the Allfather but to the royal family and Asgard in general from the various subjugated realms also annoyed him. The Allfather allegedly showed his benevolence by refusing all gifts to himself and giving unto others on his Name Day, yet that had never once stopped him from accepting gifts that were given to him on behalf of “the royal family” or “the realm.” It was only after these gift presentations had ended and the dancing portion of the evening began that Loki even got a chance to speak to his own father.

 

“Merry yule, my son,” Odin said to his youngest.

 

“Merry yule,” Loki repeated, “and Happy Name Day, Father.”

 

“Your mother is already bragging to everyone in earshot about the translation of that ancient elvish herbology text you gifted her,” Odin mentioned. “It must have taken some time.”

 

“Every hour I spent on it was worth it if it brings Mother joy,” Loki said. Conversations with his father had grown even more awkward over the years, but their mutual love of Frigga seemed to be a safe topic, and one of few the Allfather tended to stay on when he was trying to avoid any confrontation with his younger son. Despite this, Loki decided to step a toe in the water to see how his father would react. “There are plenty of ancient elvish texts that still haven’t been translated into Asgardian. Of course, it’s mainly because they are rather selfish when it comes to letting those texts out of their realms. Perhaps, if I ever spent some real time there…”

 

“I take it your mother has mentioned you the ambassadorship opening,” Odin said, cutting his younger son off.

 

“In passing, but I think it was more her wishful thinking than anything else,” Loki said, not betraying his feelings one way or another.

 

“Yes,” Odin agreed. “Of course, I don’t have to tell you that it is important that you stay close to Asgard, Loki. We have much more need of your skills here.” 

 

“Yes,” Loki said quietly. Part of him wanted to shout at his father. The only thing he ever seemed to be used for was to keep Thor out of trouble, and Loki hardly saw that as an efficient use of his skills. 

 

“Now, I’m sure you have better things to do than talk to your old father,” Odin said. “I haven’t seen you twirl Sigyn around the dance floor once this evening. Go, make merry.” Loki bowed to his father and sought out his wife just as Odin had suggested. 

 

“You’ve been talking to your father,” Sigyn said, as soon as Loki spun her out on the floor.

 

“What gave it away?” Loki asked.

 

“You always have that same sour look on your face after you’ve been talking to your father,” Sigyn pointed out. “What did he say?”

 

“Mother brought up there is a temporarily vacant envoy position in Alfheim,” Loki explained, “and then Father, in no uncertain terms, let me know that I am not a candidate for it and am better of service sitting around Asgard, doing nothing. Well, not doing nothing. I suppose someone has to help Thor cover his tracks when he gets into trouble.”

 

“Oh, Loki,” Sigyn sighed. 

 

“Why is it Thor can go traipsing across the realms, smashing in heads with his friends, but I’m not even allowed to go across Valhall to sit in a few university questions?” Loki huffed. “Remember when he let me study at the Academy in Vanaheim with a full contingent of guards and then made me withdraw within two weeks because it was too big of a risk to have me there? I can’t even go off collecting research samples without him getting annoyed at me.”

 

“The Allfather is just protective of you,” Sigyn reasoned.

 

“Why? Thor’s the first born. He’s the golden son,” Loki huffed. “The only use I have is to keep Thor’s head out of his ass. By the norns, that’s my future isn’t it? I’m going to be Thor’s babysitter for the rest of my life.”

 

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Sigyn said playfully. “You know the second Thor gets a modicum of power he won’t care what you do at all. I’m sure if you tell him you want to study the arcane arts or colonize a moon or dance a naked jig outside his coronation he will tell you it is fine so long as you are happy.”

 

“And Asgard will burn in his wake while we’re off researching cures for grubworm ring or attending regattas in Vanaheim,” Loki rolled his eyes. “I have a feeling Odin will haunt me if I’m not around to clean up Thor’s messes for the rest of my life. Even if the old man is still alive.”

 

“Oh, my love,” Sigyn sighed. 

 

“Perhaps I should have warned you before we married that you would be shackled to the throne of Asgard alongside me,” Loki sighed. 

 

“I’m not sure you would have had time,” Sigyn smirked, “what between impersonating the groom and making our hasty escape before anyone could send guards after us. I still think we only got away because of my mother’s dramatic fainting spell.”

 

“The one good thing she ever did for anyone,” Loki snorted. 

 

“Come,” Sigyn gestured to her husband, “we have no more reason to stay as the evening grows longer. And there is something I want to show you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Loki had to admit that he was slightly disappointed when, after sneaking them out of the great hall and up to their chambers, Sigyn didn’t immediately guide him to their bed. Instead, she took them out on the same balcony Loki had been sulking on earlier in the day. Things were changed with nightfall, the stars twinkling brightly overhead and the snow below seeming to twinkle back by the light of the moon. A few fires burned in hearths around the city and the ethereal street lamps of the realm eternal gave a warm hue to the green garlands and red ribbons still decorating the town. Had Loki any sentimental attachment to yuletide he might have thought the whole seen rather quaint and heartwarming. 

 

“It’s beautiful out tonight,” Sigyn said, her breath turning into clouds in the cool air. Loki had to smile at his wife as the cold seemed to make her cheeks, the end of her nose, and the tops of her ears slightly pink. 

 

“It’s nice and quiet,” Loki offered. Sigyn turned back to him with a smile.

 

“I have something for you,” she said, pulling a neatly wrapped box out of her gown’s pockets.

 

“I thought we said no presents this yule,” Loki pointed out.

 

“I did too,” Sigyn said with a raised brow, “until I found those necklaces and the book of poetry you were hiding behind your box of scented oils.”

 

“Maybe I’m just having an affair,” Loki suggested. Sigyn let out a snort of hilarity.

 

“Yes, and Fandral’s beginning his vow of celibacy tomorrow,” she said before thrusting the box into her husband’s hands. Loki smiled and started to unwrap the ribbon then leaned forward and kissed his wife before undoing it the rest of the way. It was a long green cape and Loki smirked to himself. 

 

Thor had taken to wearing a cape recently, a red thing trimmed in white furt that reminded Loki terribly of their father’s yuletide outfit. Loki had spent a great deal time of insisting that he could pull off a cape much better than Thor, and that the entire costume was going to get in Thor’s way some day. Sigyn had definitely paid attention.  The he sumptuous green cape was not only embroidered with gold thread; it was easily a good foot or two longer than Thor’s precious cape. Loki had to hand it to his wife: she knew how to aid him in his underhanded attempts at one upmanship. 

 

“I would say it’s to keep you warm, but you never get cold,” Sigyn said. 

 

“It’s not that I never get cold,” Loki teased, “it’s that you’re  _ always _ cold.” 

 

“Do you like it?” Sigyn asked, hopefully.

 

“I love everything you make for me,” Loki smiled. “You always seem to put your love into it.” He leaned forward to kiss his wife in thanks, secretly wondering how she always seemed to turn his worst days into good ones. When he pulled away he marveled at Sigyn’s eyes as they shown in the winter moonlight, merry and bright.

  
  



End file.
